


Illusions or Drunken Hallucinations or Both

by cuddlesome



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Binge Drinking, Brotherly Love, Canonical Character Death, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Missing Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sad, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-07 11:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesome/pseuds/cuddlesome
Summary: Thor gets a visit from his brother. It may or may not be real.





	Illusions or Drunken Hallucinations or Both

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Marvel, if you're going to make Thor an alcoholic and put on weight you could, oh, I don't know, explore the ramifications of that? Perhaps? Maybe? And give him his brother back while you're at it?
> 
> ^ That was basically my thought process while writing this fic. I tried to leave it ambiguous as to whether or not Loki is actually present thanks to timeline shenanigans or if Thor really is just imagining it all.

The point of drinking is to forget, so Thor cannot help but be irritated whenever the person he wants to forget the most in the universe shows up. He knows he shouldn’t acknowledge the delusion in the shape of Loki, but when he’s this drunk he has an easy time pretending it’s the real thing.

 

At the moment, Thor sits at a small dock of sorts just behind his house in New Asgard, legs dangling. A storm had reduced the structure to little more than a few pieces of wood, so there is no cause for anyone to use it anymore. The perfect spot for him to sit and mope when the picturesque place his father had died seems too grandiose, which is often. Someday he might fall into the ocean after one of his after one of his binge drinking sessions and forget how to swim. The possibility does not worry him as much as he knows it should.

 

What a way for a god to die. What a way for a man who had ruined everything to die.

 

Thor has a can of cold beer pressed to his forehead to fight off the headache caused by the very same beer. The sunset reflecting off of the water sets him to blinking, once, twice, and then Loki is there beside him.

 

His brother is elegantly poised, hair slicked back, clothed in a tailored Midgardian suit. The latter is black and looks far too hot for the weather, not that he would ever admit it. Thor imagines he looks like even more of a slob by comparison, shirtless, unkempt, but that doesn’t stop him from scratching an itch on the side of his plump belly. As if in response, his abused guts let out a rumble and churn the alcohol that has him stretched tight as a drum. He stifles a hiccup.

 

Thor hates long silences, so he speaks first. “Come to see your big brother again, have you?” 

 

“Ah, yes,” Loki gives him a sidelong glance. “My very, very big brother.”

 

Thor forces a laugh. It is painfully stilted. Loki’s grin in response to the staccato laughter is just the same.

 

“Come now, that one was too easy for me to pass up.” His smile fades. “But I am not joking when I say you look absolutely ghastly. More so than usual.”

 

“Yes, I know. We have had this conversation before.” 

 

Countless times. Leave it to his pernickety brother to criticize his ever-worsening appearance. Thor knows very well how he looks; that’s why he never sees anyone anymore.

 

“No,” Loki raises a finger. “Last time I just said that you looked dreadful. They are synonyms, but I would argue one is far more egregious than the other.”

 

Thor grunts. The use of even slightly bigger than average words makes his headache worse.

 

Loki sighs and admits in a smaller voice, “Despite what you think, I care for you. Most deeply. It pains me to see you like this.”

 

“And why is that?” He separates the cold can from his forehead long enough to take a swig of beer. “You never had any issues associating with Volstagg.”

 

When Loki rolls his eyes, he puts his whole face into it. “I know it is difficult for you, but do try to be a bit less dull-witted, brother. You know very well that is not what I mean. You are sick with grief. You are making yourself sicker with drink.”

 

“That is a wonderful observation.” Thor had never been great with sarcasm, but enough time spent with the Avengers taught him how to lay it on just as thick as Loki. “I cannot even begin to imagine how you concluded that. You were always so clever.”

 

“Thor--”

 

He stands and thunders, “Do not ‘Thor’ me, damn you! You claim to care for me, but if you really did, you would still be here. Of all your tricks, this is the cruelest.” 

 

Thor feels like his younger self, ready to face down any opponent in the nine realms or at the very least upend a table in the great hall. That energy peters out just as soon as it comes. He is left swaying on his feet like he had on his first ship ride as a boy.

 

Still, Thor stands over him for a moment, huffing through his nose, unencumbered fist trembling at his side. Loki stays seated, unruffled and peacocky as ever. Eventually Thor sinks back down beside him for fear of losing his footing.

 

There are no rocks around at the moment for Thor to fling at Loki to prove or disprove his presence. He considers doing it with the beer can but thinks better of it; there’s still a quarter of it left.

 

“Why would you leave me?” Thor asks, voice raw. “Just when we were finally together again.”

 

“But I am still here. Right here, before your very eyes.” Loki tilts his head.

 

He says it so matter-of-factly, as if it is obvious, as if Thor had not watched him die a horrible, definite death. Again. Only it had had neck-snapping finality this time.

 

“Brother.” Thor’s lower lip wobbles and he hopes that his beard disguises it. “I think I may need a hug.”

 

Loki waves a hand. “You nearly crushed my lungs with your last one. I have no doubt your drunkenness and  increased bulk would make it a more definite thing. Ask again in another century when you have snapped out of whatever this is.”

 

Thor does not know if his mismatched eyes will have the same effect as when they were children, but he gives him his most puppyish look, regardless. “Please, Loki?”

 

Scoff. “You are an insufferable oaf, you know that? Come on, then.”

 

Thor awakens around two in the morning cuddling with a sailcloth, so he cannot be sure whether or not Loki had actually allowed him to give him a hug. Assuming Loki had been there, which he could not have been. He would have seen a telltale shimmer of green to signify the use of his magic. Yes. That would have given him away.

 

Thor is surprised at how articulate his thoughts are and almost congratulates himself on it up until he tries to stand up and his knees buckle. He lands heavily on his side. The sailcloth seems even more inviting than before, even if its smell makes him want to puke. Anything to distract him from thinking about his brother.

 

And with that, he’s thinking about him again. Thor wonders as tears stream vertically down his face if he can get it down to an exact science how much he needs to drink before he can hallucinate him back into existence again.


End file.
